


Sunset

by ItheGodot



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV Takasugi, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26558992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItheGodot/pseuds/ItheGodot
Summary: ‘Takasugi, did you find anything?’‘Nothing at all.’He was starved, and the tuna-mayo onigiri Katsura brought made his mouth water. Who would willingly contemplate their samurai brand on an empty stomach?Katsura didn’t say anything, just chuckled, sunset glinting over his silhouette.Gazing into the sunset for the last time in his life, Takasugi recalls small glimpses into his and Katsura's fractured relationship through the years.
Relationships: Katsura Kotarou/Takasugi Shinsuke
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Sunset

***

He did not know how long it has been since they crawled here, this tiny crevice in between giant roots of an ancient oak ripped in half.

The sun was dying, colouring the skies in deep violet.

By now, he could almost ignore the throbbing under his ribcage, and all the other wounds that littered his body. His arm was lying on his stomach, and it was all sticky.

Blood, it was blood…

But then there was also that fragile feeling. A tender hand brushing his head…

He opened his good eye.

His head was on Katsura’s chest, and it was his delicate fingers that were running through his hair.

Katsura did not look any better than him, eyes barely open and face bloodied beyond recognition, and his breathing was gaspy and wet. He was half-resting against the tree stump, and had Takasugi pulled over his body to hold him more comfortably.

Takasugi exhaled and turned his head a little. He could hear Katsura’s pulse under his ear, and counted his heartbeats.

The sun was setting over the distant city before them, but they were stranded far, very far from any civilization, only trees and shrubs and birds around them. It will be a while before anyone finds them.

Just the two of them, at the end of the world.

‘Say, Shinsuke,’ Katsura whispered after a while, still stroking his hair, the sensation so comforting Takasugi barely had the attention span to hear his words, ‘did you ever find it?’

It took him some time to put together what he meant.

He had forgotten what it had been like, to be that idealistic kid constantly searching for his very own path of a samurai.

He followed Katsura’s look at the sunset. Here, _at the end_ , drawing their last breath, with Katsura’s arms around him, he was almost, almost sure… 

‘I think I did,’ he replied.

***

Takasugi crossed the camp. It was quiet, too quiet; around the fires, men sat silent and gloomy, no one was singing or even laughing. In the wake of the upcoming battle, everyone was on edge.

Guards told him Katsura had made his round around the camp before sunset, but with Gintoki and Sakamoto and their units still missing, little he could do to uplift the warriors’ spirits. Hell, Takasugi felt pretty desperate himself. They will be run pretty scarce in tomorrow’s battle in any circumstance, and without two of their heavy hitters, who knew if they really stood a chance..?

Katsura was not where he had expected to find him; the tent they stored their gunpowder in and had set up a makeshift table for strategy meetings was empty.

He made his way to the forest.

Their camp was set up in crevices under a mountain, it was a perfect spot for ambushes, and also covered their campfires from the eyes of enemy scouts; but it also made most of them slightly claustrophobic, and many sought to escape the towering cliffs every once in a while.

They were prohibited to carry lights in the forest in fears of being spotted, but Takasugi did not need to see where he was going. Quiet as a mouse, he snuck through the woods until he reached an airier glade. It was glued to the side of the mountain, and had a few tiny waterfalls trickling down the rocks; that was where they got their fresh water.

Takasugi did not stop here, he jumped over the stream and carried on.

His intuition did not fool him.

Deeper into the woods was another spring, it broke into a small pond. It was pretty overgrown with shrubbery and vines, a good hiding place for those who did not want to be seen.

Katsura was standing in the pond up to his knees in the water, naked under a small lively spring cascading down the shadowy cliff.

Takasugi even felt the hair stand on his arms; he knew the water was freezing.

He remained in the shadows, feeling both disgusted with himself for intruding, but also too enchanted by the view to move. Katsura raised his arms above his head to catch the dripping water; Takasugi watched him stretch into a full length, bending back his waist, graceful as a dancing heron, his long hair falling down his shoulders like wings.

This was not the first time he had seen him like that, they had been close, they had been intimate even, but every time he would see Katsura’s naked form, something would surge inside him, and he would not be able to tear his eyes away.

For a short minute, Katsura just stood under the stream, then finally squatted in the pond, took a handful of sand from the bottom and rubbed his hair with it, his whole body, and then stepped back under the cascade to wash it out. Afterwards, he quickly waded back to the shore, where he picked up a blanket, rubbed himself dry with it, and then sat down in the grass on his legs, hugging himself under the cloth.

Takasugi stirred, this was a good time to come out. Katsura was undoubtedly cold, and he could help him warm up. But he decided to wait for a minute or two; the previous sight still had his blood rushing.

Katsura was now combing his hair with his hands, but his movements looked angry and forceful. Takasugi tensed; that did not look right-

From the pile of his clothes by his side, Katsura fished out a knife, grabbed a few thick strands of his hair, and raised his hand to cut them.

‘Zura!’ Takasugi immediately blasted from his hideout in the vine grove and ran to him; Katsura froze as he saw him.

He clasped his palm around Katsura’s hand which held the knife, and slowly pulled it away from his hair.

‘Shinsuke? What… What are you doing here?’

‘Was looking for you. Just came. Apparently, made it right on time,’ he knelt beside Katsura, all the while looking down. It was too dark for his blush to be visible, but he still felt positively guilty. ‘More importantly, what the hell are you doing, you imbecile?’ He snarled quietly. 

He wrestled the knife out of his palm and put it away. Katsura did not resist.

‘If we are to win, I need to be a different man tomorrow,’ he said.

‘What does your hair have to do with it?!’

‘It has,’ there was a tone of resignation in his voice. Takasugi sighed.

‘Forget it,’ he snapped, kicking the knife out of reach. Then sighed and, much softer, said, ‘here, let me.’

Katsura lowered his head and let his hair fall to the side. Takasugi daintily picked it up lock by lock and started combing it with his fingers, brushing down from the top of his head to the very ends, carefully untangling messy strands and layering them all neatly in his other palm.

He loved Katsura’s hair; it was long and sleek, and soft to touch, and light as silk as it rolled down his shoulders, the kind that any noblewoman would envy; he loved how fresh it felt now, soaked in cold water. After he was finished with combing it, he started braiding his hair, also slow and mindful, straightening each strand until it fell even, then, at its end, tied a small ribbon from a string that Katsura normally used to tie his ponytail.

All the while, Katsura looked before himself, thoughtful and silent.

Takasugi looked around, stood up and disappeared shortly in the rushes, but returned quickly with a handful of dark maple leaves. He sat down beside him again and neatly tucked a couple of them into the braid behind his ear.

‘I wish we had real flowers, but it’s too dark. Lilies… Lilies would look nice,’ he mumbled, a little flustered.

Katsura huffed, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Takasugi brushed his cheek.

‘Zura, don’t change who you are. Not like this.’

‘We might not have a choice tomorrow,’ he mumbled.

‘We will. We will win, I promise.’

Katsura chuckled. ‘And they call me an optimist.’

‘How are _you_ the one losing hope? Zura, tomorrow, I will be the one who will pull us through. Trust me.’

Katsura looked up at him with a strange sadness in his eyes. ‘I trust you, Shinsuke, always. I know you will do everything you possibly can. Who I don’t trust is myself.’

‘Then trust that I will be enough. You led us this far, let me hog at least some glory for our achievements.’

Katsura picked up his hand and intertwined their fingers, and raised his hand up to kiss his knuckles.

‘When have I ever stolen your glory?’

That was true; he and Gintoki were the great heroes of every battle, taking on armies and raging in the fields like demons; when crowds chanted their names, Katsura remained in shadows; but, oh, how well they knew they never would have made it to today without their unassuming general’s brilliance and strength.

Just as well, they wouldn’t have made it if any one of them was missing.

Katsura leaned and rested his head on his shoulder, and Takasugi put his arms around him.

He rubbed his nose against Katsura’s neck. The smell of his damp hair, his skin, his breath was driving him wild-

Katsura felt it; Takasugi could sense his self-satisfied smile as his lips brushed against his jaw, and then rose and nibbled gently on his ear, putting his arms around his neck, and Takasugi gave in; he would not even try to pretend he wasn’t losing his mind over him. Hastily, he brought him down to the ground, unravelling the blanket, kissing his neck, tasting it, his cold skin, down to the collarbone, down his chest, his hands sliding down his gaunt waist, while Katsura sank his nimble fingers into his hair, and arched into him, rubbing their crotches, and Takasugi let a gasp escape his lips.

‘Zura,’ he moaned, as those bony calloused hands slid down his waist and undid his belt, and then slipped even lower, ‘Zura, Zura, Zura-’

‘Shinsuke,’ he whispered again, ‘if we die tomorrow… I will be happy to die by your side.’

Takasugi exhaled, snuggling closer. Their bodies lay tangled on the blanket still cooling, their feet in the wet grass, and it was Katsura who was playing with his hair now, his breath warm on his forehead, while Takasugi drew ornaments on his chest with his finger.

‘We won’t die, Zura. Tomorrow, I will see you again, right here.’

Katsura huffed, and kissed him on the top of his head.

Their comforts were few and far between, and they took them all in stride, diving head on and drinking each other dry just to feel a little bit alive; when he was in him, he felt full, powerful, even immortal… Sometimes he liked to think that like this, they could last.

They did not yet know, could not even imagine how short was the time they had left. Maybe, if they had, maybe they would’ve stayed longer. Held each other tighter, kissed each other deeper, made those vows that would get stuck on the tip of his tongue every time Katsura would take him and then pick him up in his arms.

No, they were children of death, blood demons to whom that kind of peace, that kind of love did not belong. So they only took what they had each moment, and then quelled their longing until the next day, never knowing if it wasn’t the last time.

Katsura crawled from under him and got dressed, even put on his armour.

‘You ruined my hairdo, you barbarian,’ he complained with a small smirk on his face.

‘I was the one who did your hair; you almost ruined it completely, you imbecile.’

***

‘Say, Zura… That night before we lost the war. Before the raid, before Shouyo’s execution, that night when we were…’

He did not finish the sentence. What were they..? Together? Lovers? Two tired pals who just wanted some company..?

No, it wasn’t that, it was always more than that. For him, at least.

‘... that night… just before we had to take off, you were going to tell me something. I sometimes wondered, what it was.’

Katsura looked at him with a strange surprise all over his face. He then scratched his chin for a moment and looked away.

‘I’m sorry, Shinsuke,’ he smiled apologetically, ‘I don’t think I remember.’

Takasugi smirked. _He wouldn't_.

Katsura shrugged. ‘I’ll tell you if it comes back to me.’

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s just an ancient past.’

‘Indeed. Future is much more fun to think about.’

Future... Katsura was thinking about the future. Damned optimist, he always, always... 

No, Takasugi did not think about it. After this was over, there will be no future left for him.

***

‘Back then, I loved you most in the whole world.’

Katsura smiled weakly. ‘That may be… But in the end, you hated the world more.’

Takasugi nodded. There was no denying the ten years that shaped them.

There was no going back to those days.

‘We all made our choices that day. We all picked what we were going to dream of and fight for, what we wanted most.’

‘Yes. I don’t think I would make a different call today.’

‘Me neither. I think I turned out alright. Can’t say the same thing about you.’

Takasugi scoffed. ‘You’re a hack terrorist, not much different from me.’

They both fell silent, and Katsura sighed again.

‘You’re right. I too was full of rage and desperation and destruction for a long time. I think, back then, if you had asked me to come with you, I probably would’ve.’

Takasugi stared at him. His heartbeat did not hasten, no, his heart had been too still, too dead for too long…

_Oh, they would’ve been unstoppable. And they would’ve been-_

‘I’m glad you did not,’ Katsura continued. ‘I’m glad our paths were all different. In the end, we all converged here not by fate but by our own feet.’

Takasugi turned to look at him. There was something about Katsura’s face he had not seen for a very long time; it was the kind of serenity mixed with weariness that only the gentle light of sunset could bring out. 

He had always had that sunset face. No matter how rough, or painful, or absurd life would get, no matter if his shoulders had sunken in helplessness or if he cried idiocy or got completely lost in his own dark night; whenever the light of sunset would touch him, to this day Takasugi still remembered - as if that noble face would shine by itself, untarnished by hate and despair; he never let _that_ win over him. It was a face full of resignation and, at the same time, of great love for the world he lived in.

That sunset smile…

‘I never would’ve taken you. You were too dumb, Zura, you still are.’

‘That’s Katsura to you,’ he pouted, but not without a smile, and Takasugi returned it.

_If only his heart were still alive._

***

‘I think I did,’ he replied. 'Find it.'

‘I’m so glad, Shinsuke,’ Katsura whispered. Each of his breaths was coming out with an effort.

Takasugi felt a small kiss on the top of his head, and sighed quietly. How far had he gone, how much he destroyed looking for this kind of peace all across the universe… Katsura rested his head over his.

His eyes were getting heavier, and it was getting harder to breathe, but at least the pain was gone already. 

It won’t be long now.

‘Won’t you ask me…’ Takasugi mumbled, ‘what was it I found..?’

Surprisingly, Katsura did not. His hand was on his neck, but it was still.

‘Zura?’

He pushed himself up a little to look at him, and Katsura’s head dropped. Takasugi gasped.

His eyes were half-open, and he had a soft smile frozen on his lips, and the waning orange sunlight fell on his skin like an angelic aura.

‘Zura?’ He shook him a little. ‘Zura, you bastard… Who told you you can go before me…’

Katsura’s head fell even lower, and Takasugi carefully cupped his jaw to turn his face a little. Like this, he could pretend that sweet sweet smile was directed at him.

A tiny corner of his heart stirred when he thought that maybe, maybe it actually was; that maybe Katsura _wanted_ to die beside him, like he had said all those years ago, before they parted ways… But there had been too much betrayal, abandoned feelings, too much water under the bridge for him to kindle that hope now.

‘It was you, Zura,’ Takasugi whispered, pushing himself up again to rest his head next to Katsura's neck. ‘At the beginning of my samurai path… and now at its end… you, always you.’

He found Katsura’s hand with his, and laced their fingers together.

‘Wait for me, please. Wait for me, my friend.’

No, not much longer now.


End file.
